


every time we talk we say a little less

by philindas



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 23:08:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3267749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philindas/pseuds/philindas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eavesdropping never quite works out for the person listening in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	every time we talk we say a little less

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a painful headcanon with Lilly that turned into a painful fic because I can't stop myself. Set in 2b. Title from Pieces by Ella Henderson.

She is absolutely, positively not eavesdropping. She just has very sensitive hearing.

She’s making tea; she’d spent the morning wringing her hands while Skye had a session with Andrew, by herself- Phil had holed himself up in office. She knew it was because he felt like if he kept his hands busy he wouldn’t worry about Skye, but they both knew that wasn’t true. She’s tried everything; tai chi, a crossword puzzle, a book Fitz had told her she’d like. Nothing had put her at ease, and when Skye had come out in near tears, it had only increased her anxiety. Andrew had assured her that it would get worse before it got better, but seeing Skye so frustrated and in pain hurt Melinda in a place she hadn’t been aware could hurt so much.

She’s just finished stirring honey into her tea when she hears his voice, and even though she knows it’s wrong, she keeps listening. He’s talking quietly, so the first part is a bit of jumbled words, but the next part is louder.

“Hey honey,” Andrew’s voice is warm, and Melinda’s eyes slide closed. She knew he’d gotten remarried- he’d sent her a small note a few years back to let her know. She hadn’t responded. There’s a lapse, and then he speaks again. “I miss you too. Daddy’ll be home in a couple of weeks. I’m sure if you asked nicely, Mom would set up Skype for you and we could talk tonight.”

She stops listening; her chest is tight, and she knows it’s her own fault for eavesdropping. Andrew had always wanted kids- he’d been straightforward from the moment they’d started seeing each other, that a family was something he actively wanted. Once upon a time, that had been her dream too- though it had never quite included Andrew, though she’d only admit that to herself, in her deepest, darkest thoughts.

But Bahrain had changed her, and had changed her view of herself and her future; she hadn’t been able to picture herself raising a child, not when she was so broken. She could barely keep herself together- she couldn’t build a family with the shards of her humanity she had left. So, Andrew had left and she’d let him, because it was easier than trying to fight.

And now he was a dad. He was happy, he had the family he’d always wanted, and she had…well she wasn’t quite sure what she had. She had people she cared about, yes. She had a man she’d been in love with for decades, but he wasn’t really hers, truth be told. She had enemies galore, and the people she truly trusted barely used need all of her fingers to count. And she was content with her life; she was. But there was always going to be an empty space in her life, a giant what-if that she would never be able to fill.

She’s struggling to fit her emotions back into the box they belonged in when there’s a warm hand on her shoulder; she manages not to jump at the touch, familiar with the palm on her skin.

“That head of yours seems like a dangerous place to get lost in, Mel,” Andrew says, his voice carrying a trace of a smile as she drops her gaze to her now-cool tea.

“You always seemed to think so,” she replied quietly, thumb brushing the edge of her mug, the corner of her lip curled upwards when she looks up at him. He looks nearly just the same as he did when he walked out of her life nearly fifteen years ago; there are a few more wrinkles around his eyes and there’s some gray at his temples, but his smile is still warm and his eyes can still see through her façade. “How’s Cynthia?”

“She’s good,” he answers, and she sees him swallow out of the corner of her eye as she pours more hot water into her tea. “She’s at home with our daughter.”

“Oh?” Melinda asks, ignoring the pain in her chest as she looks at him. “How old?”

“Addie’s four,” Andrew replies, face breaking out into a smile. “And our second one is due in about four months, doctor said it was a boy at our last appointment.”

“Congratulations, Andrew,” she says, pushing aside the stab of envy she feels and squeezing his forearm, kissing his cheek and pulling back to give him her best pasted-on smile. “I’m glad you got the family you always wanted.”

“Mel…” Andrew starts, but Melinda shakes her head, cutting him off.

“I mean it, Drew. I’m happy for you” is all she can say before she slips away, leaving her tea and her ex-husband behind without a glance backwards.

* * *

He stops when he hears crying.

He’s walking by the common area no one ever uses, not since Jemma had stumbled upon Bobbi and Lance fooling around in it a few months ago. He’s trying to avoid the team- he didn’t show up to Skye’s appointment with Andrew, and he just couldn’t face anyone. He’s been on edge ever since May’s ex had stepped foot on the base; he liked the guy, sure, but he’d never quite forgiven him for walking away from May after she’d come back from Bahrain.

When he hears the crying, he doesn’t even pause to think; he opens the door and slips inside the darkened room, eyes on the hunched over figure near the armchair. He doesn’t realize it’s May until he sits down beside her, hand reaching out to grip her shoulder when she looks up at him, hair sticking to her cheeks and eyes red.

“Hey, hey, it’s-“ he doesn’t even finish speaking before she crawls into his lap, arms around his neck and face buried in his chest, sobs intensifying as she tries to speak. “You have to breathe, May, I can’t understand you.”

She tries; her chest heaves as she hiccups, and Phil carefully brushes her hair out of her face, thumb brushing gently over her cheekbone, but the tears keep falling at such a rapid pace that he can’t keep up. It takes a few tries, but he finally makes out the words she’s saying, and he feels a hollow stab in his chest.

“I wanted- I wanted a baby,” she whispers, fingers clutching his collar, tears falling onto his suit jacket. The hiccups subside as she clings to him, but even then her tears don’t truly stem. When she speaks, her voice is hoarse, but she doesn’t falter. “For so long I thought about being a mom, but it just…never was the right time. And then…and then everything changed after Bahrain. I could barely even look at my husband, let alone think about a baby.”

He doesn’t say anything; he just runs his fingers through her tangled hair and holds her tight against him. She shifts slightly, her nose pressed to his neck, grip tightening on his jacket. “And I could never quite picture a baby with Andrew. It never seemed right.”

She pauses; he feels her swallow, and he’s glad he can’t see her face when she says the next part.

“I always seemed to picture a future like that with you.”

Phil doesn’t respond; he just leans his forehead against hers and closes his eyes, hand spanning her back as they breathe together. It comes unbidden; he tries to stamp it down, but there’s no strength left. May, a baby ensconced in her arms, smiling up at him. It’s everything he’s never quite let himself want, and the pain in his chest hurts more than Loki’s scepter ever did.

“I know,” is all he says, his lips moving to her forehead. She leans into the touch, sniffling softly.

“Andrew has a family,” she whispers after a moment, breath hitching. “He has a daughter, and a baby on the way. He got the happy ending. All I have is blood on my hands.”

“You have so much more than that, Lin,” Phil replies; he tilts her head up to look at him with a finger under her chin, brushing away the last of her tears. “It may not be biological, but you have a family that loves you. You have Skye and Jemma and Fitz and Bobbi and Nat and Clint and Maria and Sharon. You didn’t give birth to them, but you sure as hell love those kids a lot.”

Melinda bites her lip, worrying the skin with her teeth; Phil’s thumb brushes over it gently until she releases it before he speaks again.

“And you’ve got me.”

Her breath hitches in her chest, tears welling in her eyes again before she leans forward, her forehead pressed to his as her hand slips to his neck, nails digging into his skin slightly.

“You’ve always had me; I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers, fingers tangling in her hair. His nose brushes hers, softly; sweetly. “Family has never been about blood. This is our family. I think we’ve made a pretty good one.”

She doesn’t say anything but she shifts closer, tucking herself under his chin; he wraps his arms around her, holding her close. He can feel the three words he’s never said pressing against the back of his throat, but he swallows them down; it’s not the time (it’s never the time), but some day. One day.

They had a whole future in front of them.

 


End file.
